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What we call ourselves is not as important as how we say it, the ways we hold meaning and reflect love back on one another. And yet we push forward with words, with the clumsy imperfect ways we try to describe how we are held together. 68 more words

Six Sentences


We buried ourselves like seeds, covered over in dirt and watered with the sweat of our mothers’ brows. We returned to the earth as burrowers. We dug ourselves new homes and laid down to sleep forever in beds of soothing mud. 25 more words

Six Sentences


The notes we left behind were cryptic even to us weeks later, fragments of thoughts, a series of keywords we had believed we would be able to decipher with no trouble later. 78 more words

Flash Fiction


It’s not that we didn’t want them in the band; we could always use more members. It wasn’t their utter lack of rhythm, or their tendency to ignite the music stands when laughing too heartily at their jokes. 105 more words

Six Sentences


My disdain for them stretches beyond the logical. On the surface, my reasons are manifold — resentment for their lack of urgency, their complacency, the easy, unthinking ways they move through life with little concern for contemplating what it is that makes this ease possible. 128 more words

Six Sentences

the future

As we have imagined it, it is merely an extension of now, with sleeker cars, faster change, everything shiny. Or it is covered in dirt, all of us wearing torn clothes, scrabbling for resources. 106 more words

Six Sentences

time and everything

Time wraps around us like an infinity scarf, warm and invisible, but seamless. Some days we can taste the fabric as it brushes past our lips, a ripple of memories that smell like sun-warmed summer clothes, the brisk bite of late autumn frost, the sweet pollen of spring. 84 more words

Six Sentences